


Bruised Knuckles and Bleeding Lips

by Sassaphrass



Series: Bruised Knuckles and Bleeding Lips [1]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Career Criminals, F/M, M/M, Open Relationships, Organized Crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 09:31:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1545998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sassaphrass/pseuds/Sassaphrass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anne Bonny and Charles Vane only have one thing in common: Jack Rackham. </p><p>Or: The Modern AU where Vane runs a criminal organization, Jack gets beat up and Anne...well who knows what the hell Anne wants?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Vane

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this ages ago while the show was still airing, and it was originally an attempt at a OT3 fic, but Vane and Anne just wouldn't get along. 
> 
> Warning for some non-graphic violence.

Anne and Vane do not have much in common. They're career criminals with different ways of doing things. Vane throws around his weight and plays at being meaner than he really is, acting the kingpin with all his might. Anne rarely says a word and skulks around in oversized coats and hats that do nothing to disguise how little she really is but which allow her to conceal more weapons about her person then is strictly sane or legal.

 

What they share is Jack Rackham. Jack, with his ridiculously high maintenance facial hair and his non-existent fashion sense. Both of them are pretty shocked by the fact they love that loser. He runs with the same gang as them: moving drugs, lifting cars, and doing whatever illegal jobs they can find. He is, possibly, one of the least intimidating criminals either of them have ever met.

 

Vane would like to go on record and say that he is not actually gay. He likes the girls. Especially mixed-race girls with dark eyes and wide knowing smiles. Yes, he occasionally will fuck a boy or a man if they're good looking enough, not too faggy and didn't look likely to give him any grief when he never called or even thought of them again.

Fucking Rackham was either the best or worst decision of his life, he changes his opinion on that every other day, but the man had been leaning against the doorway with a shirt open to his navel and leather fucking pants and he'd raised an eyebrow and said “You look like you need to get laid, wanna bang?”

Which, to be fair, was not the smoothest pickup line ever but, well, actually, that was the whole story. Vane had been bored, Rackham had been horny and they'd fucked against the wall of the warehouse waiting for Guthrie's men to deign to show up for the drop.

 

Somehow things had gone from there, Rackham was never unprofessional on the job except when they were alone and he'd offer a hand job or a quickie or something. It had been an excellent arrangement. Vane had really appreciated having a steady, no drama source of decent sex when he was on the job and cut off from his regular hook-ups of desperate young things in it for the money or the drugs (Vane admits that he should maybe consider raising his standards).

 

Then there'd been that fucking awful night with Eleanor (the ex who Vane couldn't seem to fall out of love with) and Rackham had sidled over, slung an arm around his shoulder and kissed his neck like maybe it mattered that someone had hurt Vane.

 

It had come as something of a shock, realizing that Jack actually cared, that he'd cared the whole time and maybe if Vane was some better version of himself he would have seen that and benefited from having someone who loved him. After that it wasn't just fucking, there were also nights where Jack would come over and they'd watch movies and it was...nice.

 

The problem wasn't Jack in the end. As much as Vane is a heartless bastard he isn't that much of a heartless bastard. He knew that it was all his fault in so many ways, that if 'd been better he could have had all of the infuriating wonderful bastard that was 'Calico' Jack Rackham. But, he'd fucked around and he'd fucked it up and one day he'd come home to Jack hunched over the sink with a black eye, a broken arm and a new protector in the form of Anne.

 

Vane never actually found out what had happened, where the money had gone and why Anne who'd previously never shown the least bit of interest in Jack now hardly seemed to leave the man's side. But from then on he accepted, without comment, that Jack wasn't his, he was shared property


	2. Anne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne takes Jack under her wing
> 
> Warning for some strong language, non-graphic violence and sex.

Anne liked Jack. It was an unusual feeling. Anne did not usually like anybody. But, Jack with his wild dramatic way of talking, dressing, and existing just seemed to worm his way in somehow. She knew he was fucking the boss of course, but that was hardly surprising, everyone knew Jack would fuck anyone who was even half-way nice to him and Vane would do anyone who was willing and pretty.

 

She'd assumed it was something more than just fucking though, what with the goofy way that Rackham looked at Vance all the time and the little smiles that Vane would get when Jack wasn't looking.

 

So, when she'd arrived at the warehouse to find Jack crumpled against the wall holding one hand to his face and looking like a broken doll, she'd pulled out her phone to call the boss, but Jack had lunged for her phone and knocked it away.

 

She'd raised an eyebrow.

 

“He will not be happy, if you bother him.” Jack had slurred around his swollen face.

 

She'd crossed her arms.

 

“I'm fine. I'm fine...” Jack had said, acting as though she'd actually spoken out loud.

 

She rolled her eyes.

 

“Well, okay, I'm not fine but, please don't call him? I'll just go home and see to myself.”

 

She sighed.

 

“You don't have to look after me Anne, I know you don't go in for that sort of thing.”

 

Rackham sort of slides up the wall and then very gingerly takes one step. There's a pause in which they both wait to see if he's going to fall over. He doesn't and when he realizes he's not about to he gives here this proud little grin that makes Anne want to hit him over the head and wrap him up somewhere safe where no one will ever hurt him simultaneously.

 

She opts for taking him to the mob doctor, who plasters up his arm and then getting him back to his crap apartment in relative safety.

 

In this business everyone has a legend and most of them are false. Anne's would have it that she married a drug lord, killed him, took him business and joined Vane's crew. Vane's would have it that he clawed his way up from the bottom, killing everyone in his way. One of these stories is true.

 

Jackie doesn't have a legend yet, or if he does he has several. Some people say he was a little whore who got big plans and made a way out for himself. Others say Vane rescued him. Still others say that Rackham's a rich kid who likes to play criminal.

 

Anne doesn't know if any of these stories are true or none of them. She knows that of the crew Rackham is the least likely to commit physical violence but the most likely to come up with some highly inventive way of getting someone else to commit physical violence for him.

 

His apartment isn't like anything Anne's ever seen, it's decorated like a cheap oriental themed brothel and smells like one too.

 

Jack staggers through the kitchen before collapsing face down on the bed. Anne follows him.

 

She takes off his boots and throws the cover over his prone body.

 

He moves his head so that he's looking at her out of the very corner of his eye.

 

She huffs and shakes her head at him.

 

“Oh, don't be like that darling. We all have our roles to play. Mine is making plans and occasionally ensuring that our dear captain doesn't damn us all because he hasn't been laid in a while.”

 

On impulse Anne kicks off her boots and climbs up onto the bed next to him.

 

“If you really thinks that's all you are, you're dumber than you look.”

 

Jack turns over under the sheets and looks at her properly.

 

“You know, I always imagined that if I managed to talk you into bed with me that you'd take your hat off.”

 

She sighs again and looks at him from under the brim.

 

“But, I guess we can't have everything.”

 

Anne reaches over and grabs Jack's upper thigh. “I wanna fuck.”

 

Jack raises an eyebrow at her. “As much as I would love to comply, I'm quite likely to pass out halfway through. If you like you can stay the night and I'll comply with your charming request in the morning?”

 

Anne glares at him but Jack just shrugs and settles into the ridiculously soft mattress. Within a few moments his breathing evens out and he's a asleep.

 

Anne glances around the room. She gets up and locks the front door, there's no lock on the bedroom but it opens in so she wedges a chair against it.

 

She climbs up onto the bed and lies down on top of the covers. She does stay the night.

 

She wakes up to Jack sitting on the bed watching her. She glares.

 

“I was going to wake you up but then I realized I'd probably get stabbed for my troubles.”

 

That's...actually true, and smart.

 

He grins at her. She pushes him down and shoves her tongue down his throat and her hand down his pants.

 

It's good sex. Not mind-blowing or hot beyond belief but Jack is a conscientious lover who makes her cum and she finishes him off quickly as something of an after thought.

 

They're lying next to each other, breathing heavily and he props himself up on an elbow to look at her.

He starts to lean in but then pauses. “Can I kiss you?” he asks.

 

She turns her head, and he leans downs to give her a soft kiss on the cheek. “Thanks.”

 

He gingerly climbs out of bed, holding his side where it's bruised and wincing when he jostles his broken arm in it's cast. The swelling on his face has gone down but the bruises have blossomed overnight and he looks a wreck.

 

Anne puts her hat back on and follows him out into the kitchen. He's putting pop-tarts in the toaster.

 

She hums and he turns to look at her.

 

“Don't worry about Vane Anne, he won't care.”

 

She raises an eyebrow.

 

“You've got the completely wrong idea about how things are between us.”

 

She just looks at him.

 

“I'm a tool, only interesting to the man because I'm useful.”

 

She stalks towards him and he shrinks back against the counter.  


She pokes him in the chest, hard, not caring at all that it's mottled with bruises.

 

“He trusts you.” She looks up at him with as much force in her gaze as she can muster hoping he gets the message.

 

“Of course he _trusts_ me I'm part of his gang, his crew. He trusts all of us.”

 

He still doesn't get it. “He trusts you more.”

 

Jack stares at her and she stares back. It's an odd moment, broken by the ding as the pop-tarts pop out of the toaster, though something is clearly wrong with one of the springs in that thing, since one of the toaster streudel's nearly goes flying across the kitchen but hits Jack in the side of the head instead.

 

Jack sighs, picks the pop-tart off the floor, hands the clean one to Anne and takes a bite out of the dirty one.

 

“What happened.” Anne says, nodding at Jack's injuries.

 

Jack shrugs. “Deal gone bad. Cops showed up unexpectedly. Lost the money, didn't get the merchandise.”

 

Anne nods.

 

“Vane's gonna kill me.” Jack whimpers.

 

Anne shakes her head. “Vane, never. The crew..” she makes a maybe-yes-maybe-no hand gesture.

 

Jack nods, and leans against the counter, hunched over the sink like he thinks he might be sick.

 

Anne sits down in one of the kitchen chairs and stares at him.

 

Vane, the fucking bastard, chooses that moment to burst in. Jack jumps like a frightened lemur or something and then starts looking between Anne and Vane as though he expects them to launch themselves at each other.

 

Anne quirks her lips into something approximating a smile. Jack is many things but he's not the sort of person you'd bother fighting over.

 

She gives Vane a little salute and heads for the door, but Jack grabs her wrist as she passes. She shakes her head but sits back down. Apparently Jack wants witnesses to the almighty arsekicking he's in for.

 

Vane grabs Jack by the jaw and forces his head back so he can look at the bruises. It looks like it probably hurts, the way that Vane's had tightens on Jacks bruises. Jack's face doesn't show it, but then, for all his flamboyance and ridiculous airs, Jack rarely loses any sort of control of himself.

 

“What happened?” Vane snarls.

 

“Cops. Everyone turned on each other.”

 

“Where's the money?!”

 

Jack shrugs and shakes his head. Vane shoves his jaw back in a way that would be playful if Jack's face wasn't already black and blue.

 

“Stupid cunt. The men will gut you for that.” Vane growls with what can only be assumed indifference.

 

 

Vane prowls around the table, pulls up a chair next to Anne and sits. Jack fidgets under their collective gazes.

 

“You wouldn't let them gut me.” Jack says, with false bravado.

 

 

“I might.” Vane replies.

 

Anne pulls out one of her knives and starts to sharpen it. “You won't” She says.

 

Vane glances at her and then looks at Jack. She can see him putting it together and half expects him to fly into a rage. He doesn't, just snorts and shakes his head.

 

“I need to go tell the men what you've done. I'll be back this evening and I expect you to be alone.” Vane states.

 

Anne raises an eyebrow at Jack once Vane is gone.

 

Jack's shoulders slump, and he waves towards the door. “You better leave. I need to come up with a plan to save my neck.”

 

Anne shrugs and scrapes her chair againsy the floor as she stands.

 

“I'll come back, when you need me.”

 

Jack stares at her. “Now, why would you risk doing something as foolish as that?” he asks.

 

Anne rolls her eyes and walks out leaving Jack alone.

 

He leans against the counter and scrubs his hand across his eyes before laughing. “Gods Jackie-boy. Don't you know how to pick'em?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The END, just a little 2-shot for the sake of out little fandom. Got to love Jack and Bonny. This was written before most of the unpleasantness between Jack, Vane and Anne occurred.


End file.
